In all reality, this could have been a part of Chapter 5, but when I finished the Draco/Astoria scene, I just felt like it needed to end there. It's a bit shorter than my usual chapters BUT things should start to pick up during the next chapter, so hopefully you aren't all too bored, or find any of the pacing off.

I'm also working on a fanfiction blog (hence the lack of updating this week) so hopefully I'll have that ready soon!

When Anya woke up a quarter 'til midnight, she found herself disoriented for a moment before realizing that Harry brought her back to her house as she was in her own bedroom. Rolling over, she found her father lying in bed next to her, hands folded against his chest, legs crossed at his ankles, while he stared up at the ceiling, still in his regular clothes. Yawning, she stretched her arms above her head and waited for her dad to open his arms, which he did, as she curled up next to him, his arm hugging her close.

"You can't keep sneaking over to James' room," Draco said, his tone quiet but stern.

"I know," she said.

"I know you're upset, Anya, and believe me when I say that I am upset for you – all three of you. But these outbursts simply cannot continue."

"I know," she repeated, stifling a sniffle. "I'll apologize to Claire. I promise."

Draco sighed as he felt Anya's arms slip around him, hugging him tight as he felt her tears slowly soak into his shirt. When Anya was smaller, Draco would often slip into her room and night and sleep with her after having a major row with his wife. His eldest had him wrapped around her finger the moment she was born, the nonsense of not producing an heir drowned out by the way she would look at him, or how her cries would instantly calm the moment she was placed in his arms. A lot of the time Draco and Anya found themselves alone while Astoria would mourn for 'the life she was supposed to have,' by doing anything that required her to be out of the house.

"Daddy? If the baby in Mummy's belly is a boy, will she love me less?"

Draco looked at seven-year-old Anya as she held a tea party between herself and her throng of stuffed animals in her room, watching as he sat against the pale green wall of her room. "Mummy loves you," Draco said.

"I'm not sure she does," Anya replied, fluffing her dress up clothes and fixing too big, lace gloves she wore on her hands. "Miss Ginny – she always gives me hugs and she gives Jaime and Albus even more hugs. And Miss Hermione – she always gives me kisses and tells me how much she misses me even if I just saw her the other day. Mummy doesn't do those things."

"Your mum loves you, YaYa," Draco said, not sure as to whom he was trying to convince. "She just has a different way of showing it."

Anya looked over at her father, handing him a plastic teacup and saucer. "But she didn't want me. She wanted a boy." She looked over at her father, pushing the oversized hat up so that it wasn't resting in her eyes. "Will you love me less if the new baby is a boy?"

"Absolutely not," Draco replied, taking the cup. "I will love both you and your new brother or sister the same."

Grinning, Anya stood up from her circle of animals and walked to her father, crawling into his lap as she gave him a hug. "Don't tell Mummy, but I hope I get a sister."

"Don't tell Mummy, but I hope you get a sister, too," he said, shaking his head at the large, plastic set of pearls that Anya had around her neck.

Anya grinned as Draco gave her a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose. "Can we go to the park today when we're done with the tea party?"

"When is the tea party over?"

"Whenever I say so."

Draco wiggled his eyebrows as Anya giggled. "Is it over now?"

"Nope," she replied, popping the 'p' with her pretty pink lips.

Draco lightly scratched his fingertips at the nape of her neck as he felt her relax a bit against him. He felt for Anya more so than Claire and Scorpius, if for no other reason than the fact that she was older, and understood what was happening around her. Astoria was just as distant with Claire as she was with Anya, but Claire was five when Astoria was diagnosed, and while she didn't understand her mother's change in demeanor, Claire embraced it whole-heartedly, because all Claire wanted was for everyone to love her, regardless of who they were. She was an affectionate child, always considerate of people and their feelings, and Draco could only assume it was due to Hermione's influence as consideration and affection weren't traits found in the Greengrass or Malfoy families.

"I don't want to go school, because someone has to take care of you guys," Anya cried softly. "And I don't want to stay because I don't want to take care of you guys."

"YaYa," Draco whispered, hugging her with both arms now as she sniffled, burying her face into his chest.

"I hate that she's nice," Anya continued, crying as she sat up a bit, a hand pressing into Draco's chest. "She ignored us, she didn't even want us when you two were getting a divorce! And now she's dying and she's nice and I hate her for making me care! I wanted her to get better because I thought she might stay this way but now she isn't getting better and she's caring even more and it isn't fair!"

"Shh," Draco whispered as Anya collapsed back against him, clutching his nightshirt as she sobbed. "I know it isn't fair. If you want to go to school then Granger can arrange for you to come home on the weekends if you'd like, or if you want to stay then between Granger and I, we can keep you up with your studies. You don't need to stay and take care of anyone."

Sniffling, Anya wiped her eyes and looked up at him. "If I don't take care of you then who will?"

"I'm an adult, Anya, I don't need anyone to take care of me. I'll take perfect care of Claire and Scorpius, just like I always have," Draco replied, brushing his daughter's tears away. "Besides, Granger will be around."

Anya never understood why her father called Hermione by her last name. She asked Hermione once why her dad always referred to her as Granger last year when she, Claire, and Scorpius were at her parents' house making Christmas cookies

"I uh, well, I guess it's what he's always called me." Hermione said, handing Claire a tree shaped cookie-cutter for the dough that was rolled out on top of the kitchen table.

"But don't you think it's strange? You don't call him Malfoy."

"I used to," Hermione said, picking up Scorpius so that he could 'help.' Anya watched as Hermione set the car shaped cookie cutter on the rolled out dough and helped press Scorp's down to cut out the shape. "Your father and I…we weren't really friends growing up."

Jean, who was standing at the counter making icing, laughed. "What's so funny?" Anya asked.

"They despised each other," Jean said, still laughing.

"It was a long time ago," Hermione added as Anya caught the glare she shot her own mother.

"Grandma Jean, these cookies are stuckted to the table!" Claire exclaimed, struggling to pick up her cookies from the middle of the dough.

Jean walked over with a small bowl of flower, pinching some between her fingers as she sprinkled them on top of Claire's hands, helping her rub them together. "See - now your fingers aren't sticky and you can just…pick them right up."

Anya looked over at Hermione, plucking Scorpius' cars and handing them to Jean so she could place them on the cookie sheet. "Did Dad…did he tell you about…"

Hermione looked up at Anya sympathetically as she kissed the back of Scorpius' head. "Yes, sweetheart, he did."

"Oh," Anya said, watching her sister, oblivious to the conversation as she helped Claire pick up her cookies.

"If you want, we can talk about it in a bit? Once the cookies are in the oven," Hermione offered.

Shrugging, Anya collected Claire's scraps of dough on the table and began to knead it back together before rolling it back out with the pin for her to cut more cookies. "Just you and me?"

"Just you and me."

Bolting upright, Anya crisscrossed her legs and used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her tired eyes dry. "Why was Mum talking to Hermione the other day?"

"She just was," Draco replied through a yawn. "You know I don't ask questions about why your mother does things because the answer usually irritates me to no end."

"Yes…but Mum doesn't like Hermione. Even James thought it was a bit odd," Anya replied with a sniffle.

Draco looked at his daughter, and let out a frustrated sigh. "If I tell you – you can't go and freak out like you did earlier. Which, might I add, will no longer be tolerated inside this house." Propping himself up a bit, he scratched his jaw and watched as Anya gave him a nod promising a better sort of decorum than what she'd been currently displaying. "Your mother," Draco declared, speaking clearly as he punctuated his words, "has asked Granger to help once she is...gone."

Anya furrowed her brow. "Hermione already helps."

"It's a big bigger than just 'helping', YaYa," Draco said. "Your mum wants Granger to care for you and your siblings as if…as if you three belonged to her."

Yanking her hair elastic from her hair, Anya shook out her hair a bit before kicking her feet back under the blankets. She moved so that she was nearly horizontal in bed, resting her head on one side, right over her father's heart. His words bounced around in her head, as she absorbed the entirety of the request. Closing her eyes, she felt her dad run his finger through her hair, lulling her back to sleep. "It's kind of dumb, if you ask me."

"Dumb?"

"What Mum asked Hermione to do."

Yawning, Draco exhaled as he rubbed his eyes. "Why do you say that?"

"Because Hermione always has," Anya said with a sigh. "She doesn't know any other way."

It didn't take long for Anya to fall asleep, and Draco kept his eyes close, gently stroking her hair until he was certain she was moveable without waking. With a little bit of magic, he was able to levitate her just enough to slide out from underneath her, replacing himself with one of her pillows as he gently lowered her back down to the bed. Quietly, he snuck out of her room and checked in on his other children, as he did most nights. Scorpius was sound asleep, clutching his blanket in one hand while he sucked his thumb, a habit he need to break him of sooner rather than later. Inside Claire's room, he found her sleeping with a book of all things. Carefully, he lifted his arm and removed what was her princess picture book - princesses being her obsession as of late - and placed it on her nightstand.

Retreating to his study, exhausted beyond measure but unable to sleep, Draco pulled some reports from his briefcase and sat down at his desk, though it was useless as his concentration was shot. He kept hearing Anya in his head, crying as she confessed to hating the sick version of Astoria. Not that he could admit it aloud, but deep down, he felt resentment towards her as well. He could have stayed married to this version of Astoria, and found ways to make her laugh and enjoy her company instead of avoiding her like the plague for fear of starting another pointless row. Death gives people a different perspective, he heard Hermione's voice say inside his head, and even though she was right, as she reminded him of this often, it didn't change the fact that Draco was starting to genuinely like his wife for the first time since they'd been married and deep down, much like his daughter, he was beginning to somewhat resent the sentiment.

With an afghan over her legs, Hermione sat in the dark, the glow of the telly illuminating the living room as the clock ticked closer to one o'clock. She couldn't sleep, not for nightmares but because she couldn't get her brain to shut off for five seconds. As long as I'm in bed by three, she told herself, knowing that she could survive a full day's work as long as she had four hours of sleep in her while she automatically flipped through the channels every few seconds if for no other reason than it gave her something to do.

Around the seventh lap through the umpteen channels in her cable lineup, a large crack towards the back of the condo caused her to scream as she whipped around, wand gripped tightly in her hand.

"Someone's a bit on edge," Draco said as he walked into the light with a tired smirk on his face.

Clapping a hand to her racing heart, she sent Draco a slight stunner with her wand, ignoring his yelp before dropping her wand to the ground. "Don't you ever do that to me again, Draco Malfoy! Honestly! What in the bloody hell is a matter with you!"

"Ow, goddamnit! I couldn't sleep!" he winced, shoving his hands into his pockets looking positively rumpled in the previous days apparel – his shirt untucked, his necktie nonexistent.

"What if I had been sleeping!"

"You weren't."

"But what if I was!"

"I had the good sense to apparate outside of this building before popping in," Draco argued. "I saw the glow of the telly through the window."

Sighing, Hermione went back to her channel surfing, placing a throw pillow next to her as Draco plopped down on the sofa, dropping his head on the pillow as his feet hung over the arm of the couch. As close as they could be without touching, Hermione handed Draco the remote as she yawned, propping her head up with a hand as he found the twenty-four hour football channel before putting the remote down on the ground.

"I think this game was on last time," Hermione said, covering her mouth as she yawned.

"You think?"

"Yeah," Hermione said. "Because this guy here does some sort of celebratory backflip right about…now."

Draco laughed a little bit as the player on the screen flipped before he was hoisted up into the air by his teammates, right on cue. "Do you think there are games on this channel we haven't seen yet?"

"Probably not," Hermione replied. They watched a few more minutes of the game in silence, both of them growing drowsier yet unable to give into the need for sleep. Shifting slightly in her spot, Hermione grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and draped over Draco. "Mum and Dad say hi."

Nodding, Draco turned his head, tilting his head back to look at her. "How did that go?"

"Fine," Hermione said. "They'd like to meet Astoria, actually. If she's up for it."

"You're joking."

"Not really. How was your night?" she asked with a sarcastic laugh.

"Well, Anya had a meltdown, making Claire and Scorpius cry, and then she snuck off to Potter's house, which I wasn't aware of until Potter himself carried her back home through the floo. She fell asleep in James' room. Again. Once I had her returned, I laid with Astoria for a bit, who was upset because the children were upset and I'm telling you Granger," he said with a heavy sigh. "There is so much energy in that house – it might be unsteady magic, it might be sheer emotion – but whatever it is, it's setting me on edge and making me feel as if I am on the verge of physically exploding."

Hermione reached out and gave his upper chest a light pat with her hand. "I can imagine."

"It's fucking miserable."

"I know," she said, letting her hand linger for a moment before pulling away.

Rolling over onto his stomach, Draco buried his face in the pillow for a moment before facing the television, the screen blurring a bit as he felt his eyes get heavy. As he felt Hermione's fingers press into his neck, he felt himself relax for the first time since he came home from work. "Will you help…talk to Anya about school," he said, wincing a bit as her thumb began to knead one of the many knots from the muscles where his neck met the tops of his shoulders.

Hermione yawned, watching the telly as she continued to rub his neck. "I can come over after work."

"Maybe while you're discussing school, you can reiterate my message regarding…how inappropriate it is…to sneak over to a boy's house…even if it is James Potter."

Laughing, she moved her fingers towards the other side of his neck. "Hello Pot. Meet Kettle."

"You know I hate it when you use muggle phrases," Draco groaned as she found another knot.

"I'm just saying, it's hard to tell her not to sneak off to James' house considering where your are right now."

Draco looked up at Hermione, utterly confused. "It's completely different. We're…friends. Grown adults. Completely different scenario. "

"And they're just friends, you know, as long as they aren't in public together," Hermione replied. "She obviously found some comfort in going over there, just like you do coming here."

"She's just a child."

"I'm not saying she isn't."

"She shouldn't be sneaking off to a boy's room. I know what teenage boys think - I was one."

Hermione laughed. "A dreadful one too if I remember correctly. Besides - James rats her out every time. I honestly doubt you have anything to worry about."

"Damn it, Granger – it's the principle of it all!"

Giggling, Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth as she threw her head back, her body shaking as Draco stared at her. "Of course it is!" she exclaimed. "Do you honestly think I would encourage her to sneak over to a boy's house - even if it is James? Give me a little bit of credit, for heaven's sake!"

Draco gave her leg a shove before dropping his head back on the pillow. "I defend you against the Weasel and you decide to repay me by mocking me after the day I've had? Honestly, Granger, I thought you were a bit more sensitive."

She slid her hand further down the back of his shirt, scratching her nails against his skin as she began to knead her fingers once more into his overly tense muscles. "I'm sorry," she said.

"You don't sound sorry."

She let out a laugh. "I am – I'm just tired and punchy. You're not the only one who had a less than stellar day."

He hesitated for a moment before sitting up to look at Hermione, recognizing she looked as exhausted as he felt. "Granger if this is all too much -"

"As much as you think everything is about you, it isn't," Hermione said, clicking her tongue as she sighed. "I can't even believe I'm admitting this to you, but when I run into Ron like I did today…and the half dozen or so times I have since our divorce, it just…"

He went to make a snarky remark about his least favorite person in the world, but could see that in this very moment, as she stared off to the side with a hand over her lips, that she wouldn't see any humor in his usual jabs. "He never deserved you," Draco offered instead, resting a hand on top of her knee, still hidden under the afghan.

She shook her head, biting her lips together as they continued to be covered by her hand. "I just want it to not hurt," Hermione finally confessed. "It's been three years for Merlin's sake and I just want to be able to see him and feel nothing instead of the betrayal and disappointment that lingers for days. I see him with this life I begged and pleaded for…and when I see her all I can wonder is what she did different. What could she have possibly done different for him, when I did everything for him." Facing Draco, she ran a hand through her hair, shaking her fingers through the mass of curls and let out a pathetic laugh. "Sorry. I know you came here looking for a break and -"

"It's fine," Draco said, leaning into the couch, crossing his arms against his chest. "I've comforted every other female I currently keep company with this evening - why should you be any different?"

Hermione playfully nudged him with her foot as it popped out from under the afghan. "Git."

"Wench."

Hermione stretched her legs out so that they were sticking out from under the blanket, draped across Draco's lap as she yawned. Kicking his feet up on the coffee table in front of them, Draco slouched against the couch, clasping his hands together against the back of his head. "Do you still have tomorrow and Friday off?"

He didn't even bother covering the yawn that escaped his mouth. "Yes."

"Ok," she mumbled.

"Why?"

"Just curious," Hermione answered. "I'll come over after work tomorrow and talk to Anya…and I'll request to have Friday off so we can get her sorted with whatever she decided to do regarding school."

Draco sighed, dropping his hands on top of her bare legs still setting in his lap. "Alright."

"Draco?"

"Yeah?"

She opened her eyes and looked at him, sighing a bit as she played with the fringe along the edge of the blanket. "Thanks…for saying he didn't deserve me."

"I meant it," Draco replied. Sighing, he lifted her legs slightly and climbed off of the couch, rubbing his eyes in vain as if it would erase some of his exhaustion. "Thanks for letting me escape for a bit."

"No problem," Hermione replied, tossing the afghan off of her as she let Draco help her up off the couch. "You can use the floo…no sense in waking up your entire house by apparating."

He nodded, moving towards the hallway as she followed. Walking into her small study, Draco turned around before he stepped into the fireplace, watching as she stood in the doorway, leaning against it in her tank top as she adjusted the straps of her short black nightdress. "What would you have said if someone told you fifteen years ago that I'd be standing in your house in the middle of the night?"

She laughed. "I'd ask them to share whatever it was they were smoking. Good night, Draco."

"Good night, Granger."